


Touch

by Sarcasm_Smiles



Series: Touch Series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aggression, Angst, Asgard (Marvel), Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intimacy, Mental Health Issues, Modern AU, Modern Royalty, Non-Consensual Touching, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Rape/Non-con Elements, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasm_Smiles/pseuds/Sarcasm_Smiles
Summary: You took the job because you needed something to do. Your socio-economic class gave you a benefit because you took the job. That was it, a Midgardian in Asgard living off well, needing to do something, and keep you out of your head.There was nothing wrong with that right? It was just a selfish desire, a selfish need, a selfish want. You deserved it, did you not? You were a decent person, quiet and to yourself, well mannered. You behaved in school, maintained a nearly flawless record amongst your previous employers, so what's a simple job? With extra money?Besides, you would be working for a King. Sure it wasn't all that great of a job position. You would be personally taking care of someone else. That wasn't bad, right? It would keep you out of your head, put you on a consistent schedule, and you had more to do. More to distract. And well... You also liked the money.So why did it make you so uncomfortable?
Relationships: Thor (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Touch Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880107
Kudos: 9





	1. Establishing Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a Modern AU story. When I mean modern I mean cellphones, tropes, character stereotypes/ personality stereotypes, etc. I hope you enjoy it!

_**You were restless and bored out of your mind. Which, given the circumstances, wasn't fair to Dr. Hamilton**._He watched you soundlessly, waiting to hear you speak up and answer his question. It was a little unnerving and even irritating that with every coming session, you grew more and more into the routine of perilous silence. He watched you with his golden eyes as he stared you down. You looked at him for only a brief moment and then avert your eyes out to the large opened bay windows. If anything, the only reason you even liked these sessions was because of the windows. You could look out into the sea-side and see far from the horizon how it fell off into the abyss. At least here in Asgard when they say that, at the horizon, it was the end of the world, the phrase was quite literal.

Subconsciously your fingers picked at one another. Picking needlessly at the sensitive skin around your fingernails. You never let your nails grow out long. The length usually irritated you and drove you into an anxious frenzy, i.e, you were a chronic nail biter. It was a terrible nervous habit that, with time, grew worse. As did your nerves.

"Y/n," Dr. Hamilton began slowly and took off his glasses. You were a little astonished that you had an Asgardian as a therapist. Your sister said that they were better than people when it came to mental health issues. It was her who had set you up with him. She was a good woman, and it saddened you to know that here, in and on Asgard, you were alone. You were offered to be sent back to Earth...but there was nothing for you there. You were estranged to your remaining family...courtesy to your unstable mental health. "If another session continues like this" He brought your attention back from your wondering thought, "I'm going to have to refer you to someone else."

That had caught your attention. That subtle _ache_ of irritation and concern laced in his deep voice shook your insides and made your stomach turn with unease. You were so used to this. You always noticed when people started to grow tired of you, it was the driving reason to why you isolated yourself all the time. Back on Earth, Nurse Megara said it wasn't a healthy thing--to isolate yourself all the time. It came it with the quirk of not wanting to speak to anyone, to crave wanting to be alone. But being alone wasn't a healthy thing either. Your mind was a dangerous place. _A very dangerous place_. It was why your sister had shipped you off to Asgard in the first place--to get a change in scenery.

Your brown eyes quickly turn up from your hands and you meet those capturing golden eyes. He reminded you of the guardian at the Bifrost, Heimdall. The man was a gentle giant. He was very welcoming when you first arrived here, along with other Midgardians, and he left a fondness in the back of your mind.

Dr. Hamilton's brows creased, a line straining between the bushy arched patches of hair. His face was hard with concentration and concern as he watched you. "I don't want to have to refer you to another therapist, but I can't do my job if you don't let me."

" _Do your job?_ " you murmur with a curious-flatness. It was the first thing you've ever said to him in months. It was the first time he's said anything to you, other than his observations and his telling you of what you needed to do. You had liked the routine, that small bit of grace, releasing some control to him so you wouldn't have to think too much for yourself.

"Yes," he cleared his throat. Dr. Hamilton was shocked by you. Your voice was so gentle, and it had a little rasp to it. Your mother had always commented and told her friends and coworkers that you had a voice that could stun even the darkest of people. Dr. Hamilton clears his throat, "For me to do my job _effectively_ I need some communication on your part."

" _Communication_." You again picked apart what he said to you and committed it to memory. "I can't just...what's wrong with the routine?" You asked irritably. Your deep brown eyes were like tornados--Dr. Hamilton was enraptured by the way your brown eyes sparkled under the natural light of the sun. The sun had struck within the office, casting over your face and lighting up your eyes to give them the effect of burning embers. Dr. Hamilton was, to say the least, stunned and captured by you. He had your full attention now, he could tell. "I _like_ the routine," you murmured and pinched the inside of your palm where your thumb and index finger shared the curve. Your eyes were on your hands, tears welled in your eyes. "I _prefer_ the routine,"

"What is the routine?" Dr. Hamilton asks, he watched the way you angrily pinched at your skin. He began to write gently on the page of his notebook:

> _\- The patient isn't fond of sudden change. She creates routines by silent guidance of others' actions, a manipulation tactic. Maybe of danger to herself, tends to mentally scold and berate herself when control is pulled from underneath her._

Dr. Hamilton looked up from his note and studied your small antics. The way your right index and thumb squeezed your palm with a recurring pulse was concerning. Your hand was turning pink from the force. _You were cracking._ This wasn't normal for you, having to speak up. Dr. Hamilton was gentle when he repeated his question to you. Your breath was shaky when exposing your nerves.

"The routine." Your voice was firm and irate. "I come in, I sit down and listen to the silence. You tell me what you know, tell me what I need to do next. We sit in silence and the ocean sings and then I leave." You didn't look up at him as a tear fell and landed on the back of your hand. You freeze. Watching it roll from your hand and down to your lap. 

"Why do you think that that is our routine?" Dr. Hamilton asks. You look up this time, eyes misty as you stare. Your eyes were telling and secretive. _Contradictory_. He tried to read the swirling emotions before they hardened into a shaking glare. "Because it _is_ our routine, it was fine, it worked." You snapped. Dr. Hamilton wrote some more. "What're you writing?" You asked and wrung your hands together. You were nervous.

He looks up at you and smiles sadly to you. Slowly, he sets down his pen and takes off his glasses. "I'm writing about you, little things I noticed to help evaluate you better." You admired the fact that Dr. Hamilton was honest with you. He didn't spare you anything less than the truth. "I worry about your mental state Y/n, you're growing more and more unstable and you're very erratic--" you cut him off, "You think I'm erratic?"

Slowly, Dr. Hamilton nods his head. "I think it steems from having anxiety. Renee told me that you've had a tough childhood, your relationship with others outside of Family is strained due to what you've experienced. Your coping skills only worsen how you react and treat others...and how you treat yourself." He tilted his head only a little bit, concern ever so prevalent on his taut features.

You had wondered if Dr. Hamilton was married. He was a good looking man, reddish-brown hair, and broad shoulders. _What was a guy like him doing being a therapist?_ You had to look away from him. It freaked you out that his observations and knowledge of you were so factual. You didn't like it, but you accepted it. He was your therapist, he had to know these things about you. The way in which he was speaking to you helped ease some of your nerves but you were still on edge, teetering. "I advise that you start taking some form of medication soon, or we find a new alternative to helping you with your anxiety."

You looked to the clock that was hung over the door to his office. Your two hours were up. Nodding, you reach over and pull your bag up from the floor. Dr. Hamilton stood as you did and gifted you with a small smile. He walked the short distance from the couches that faced each other to the door. His office space was moderately large. He had enough space to house a wall-length bookshelf filled to the brim with an assortment of books. His extravagant desk was placed in the center near the back of his office, right in front of the large bay window. The two fabric couches where he spoke with his patients sat in front of his desk, a small circular coffee table in the middle of them. To the left of the entrance of his office, by the bookshelf was the door to the bathroom.

He decorated the room nicely. The walls were painted a pastel sky-blue. On the walls, he hung photographs of his degrees, small little sandy accents to compliment the wall color, and a few shelves were mounted around with trophies and more pictures. You assumed the people in those pictures were his family and colleagues. He even mounted holiday cards from patients, they had their little section of the wall underneath the shelves. There was even a bearskin rug underneath the coffee table, you weren't sure if it was real or fake.

Dr. Hamilton rested a hand on your shoulder and you shook it off defensively, tensing in your shoulders as you opened the door out into the lobby-like hallway. It was much cooler out in the hall. Another patient sat in the waiting chairs. A girl with strawberry hair curled at the ends, who was roughly your age, but looked more put together. She dressed stylishly and expensively. She was a Midgardian just like you, you could tell. She wasn't bigger, she didn't have that ethereal aura to her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, same time okay?" He spoke to you softly, but there was a tremor of distraction in his voice. You nod and continue smoothly down the hallway. You didn't look at the girl as she stood up happily and walked past Dr. Hamilton with a flirtatious smirk. You missed the way her hand ghosted by his chest and arm sensuously. "Hello doctor," she purrs. 

The open hallways lead you down one flight of stairs and outside on to the bustling streets of the Golden City. It was the _city_ part of these vast lands. In the center, off to the far side of your right, you could see the palace. You've only been there once, it was when there was a touring of the entirety of Asgard.

Things have changed over the years, the introduction of aliens and superheroes ushered in the new era of inclusion. It was required when you were still in high-school to learn beyond the human-science of space and time. You had to learn and understand that there was more to life than just living on a rock that was floating and barreling through space for millennia to come. So with the inclusion of _Midgardians_ to the nine realms, humans were granted graciousness. To choose to live in peace with Asgardian's here on Asgard, as they were allowed to live in peace with the people of Earth. It was comforting, to know that there was something more than just you out in the vastness of the galaxies.

If you chose to live in Asgard you had to take a tour, to get familiar with your new surroundings. There was the Palace and the inner-city that surrounded the palace. Royals, nobles, and rich people lived there. The Palace-City was large, the largest area here in Asgard. Then there was the Golden-city, were you live. It spread around the inner-city like a second circle. Common folk and people with wealth and some sort of riches lived here. Then there was the outermost city. The Docks and the ghettos. The ghettos weren't a bad place, it was well mannered and very simple. Mostly fishers and hunters lived there. It was the Golden city that reminded you of a little _New York_. The city was alive. It was always alive. 

You fixed your bag on to your shoulders so it sat firmly in the center of your back. Pulling at the sleeves of your fitting long sleeve you took a left to your car. You were watching your feet, watching the way you lifted your legs to take a step forward. The dense rubber of your sneakers hit along the pavement in silent taps. It was joyous music to your ears. The silence, knowing that you can go unnoticed. That you were unnoticed. That sense control was your own and you loved it. Within your little bundle of secrecy and isolation, you were always in control, you noticed everything around you and that's how you noticed the freshly posted ad on the lamp post. It hadn't been there when you arrived for your session. You approached it, seeing as it was near your car. You took the singular page and read it over:

> _A position as a maid has opened for the King! You will be rewarded handsomely for the services of housework. The hours are flexible._

A phone number and an email were attached to it and you memorized it. It was an impulsive decision when you pulled out your phone and dialed the number. _You needed to take control of the little ripple in your life._ The phone rang four times before it was picked up. A woman spoke quickly, enunciating each of her words. You answered all of her questions and she answered all of yours. You were surprised to know that you were the first and only person who called in inquiry for the position. The Ad had been up for nearly a year. The woman scheduled an appointment for your arrival just after your therapy session. You would be given an interview with the woman on the phone, the King's assistant. Her name was Darcy. The phone call ended, you checked how long you were on the phone. Ten minutes even.

You got in your car and activated the central locking. You took off your bag and placed it in the passenger seat. You looked in your mirrors and placed the key in the ignition. The car started and you maneuvered it out of parking space. As you drove down the large street, obeying the traffic laws and making sure you don't hit any pedestrians, your hand touched the power button to the radio. It was a blessing to know that you still had access to the radio stations back on Earth. Back on Earth you barely enjoyed listening to the radio, on the account of you constantly sitting in silence and anxious fervor.

The drive home to the house tucked in the forest was easy. You weren't too far from the city, but the distance from your neighbors were miles. It pleased you, your sister knew you well. You pulled into the cemented driveway of your extravagant home, from your phone you turn off the alarm system.

Your home was large, three stories, made of wood, and stone, and glass. Your front yard was moderate. You didn't have that many plants planted, just a few ferns and patches of grass tucked healthily in the black mulch. It was classy and cold. Perfect, and just for you.

Inside your home, your walls were solid white with stock-image decorations. Decor in your home wasn't sentimental. It was just there. You walk in through the glass doors and toe-off your shoes. You drop your bag down on the floor and walk through your space, stretching your arms up and out. Your joints were stiff, but being at relaxed you. Enjoying your solitude comforted you.

The first floor was small, it didn't house much space, most of it being taken up by the garage. But there was enough space. There was the foyer which appeared spacious because it was just you alone in this large house. You decorated it in small furniture, a few chairs side-by-side for minimal conversation. Behind the stairs was the back door that led to the yard. Windows stretched from the front of the house where you were, around the walls, and to the back. 

The stairs were to your left on the wall, it dragged up to all three stories. You wondered if Renee chose this house, _The Hoke House_ \--as it was named because it was surrounded by the trees and you weren't so close to any neighbor.

You had the advantage of seeing everything because of the large windows. The first floor was covered in them. And you loved that, you watched everything, you watched when cars would drive down the road and past your house. Always alert and ready for anything.

You close the glass door, locking and re-locking the lock-mechanism five times and shaking the handle to make sure it doesn't budge. You moved quickly and turned on the alarm manually. You let out a breath of relief and turn around. Your home felt like home, no matter how exposed the house was. No matter how empty it appeared. Or how you lived in it like it wasn't your home. Like you could disappear and not even miss it.

Upstairs was much more spacious. The living room was big and open, windows showing the forest in front and behind you. You had a long soft gray couch adorned with throw pillows and a throw blanket. You had a love for the arts so an instrument was set in its stand, a camera on your coffee table. Your tv was placed on the wall opposite the entrance to the kitchen.

To your right was the kitchen. From there behind the middle island you could see into the living room. You started your direction to the kitchen, to make diner. You moved behind the kitchen island counter. Your hands touching the calender planner that laid open. You picked it up with a blue pen and wrote on it. You marked the current day and then plugged in what you needed to remind you of tomorrow's events.

* * *

 _**Dr. Hamilton smiled at the news you gave him. He hadn't inquired much about your financial situation but he knew you were well off because of the steps your sister put in place for you**._ You sat, nearly rigid waiting to hear the approval from Dr. Hamilton. "Renee used to say that it's good when I'm being active, it keeps me from being in my head too much." You mumbled.

It would take some time to get used to it, speaking to him, but it wouldn't be hard falling into the routine. Routines were easy for you. You liked Dr. Hamilton. He was nice to you. He smiles at you, genuinely happy for your cooperation and communication. This was a major improvement from yesterday. "It _is_ good to be active, and to _interact_ with people Y/n," he had paused before he started to talk about the other part of what you said. "Why is it that Renee wants you to stay out of your head?"

You pause for a moment. You didn't like to talk about the few voices that told you to do things. They told you everything. Told you to do things. _Bad things._ You went silent. Dr. Hamilton watched as you regressed into yourself, your full lips were pouty, brown eyes now misty once again. "Y/n?" Dr. Hamilton sat forward, elbows on his knees. He was concerned. _Are you ashamed of us? Of yourself?_ The thought lingered and danced in your ears. _Will you tell him about your mind?_ You shivered and scrubbed your hands against your cheeks and over your eyes, knocking your glasses from your face. 

You could hear a little laugh in the back of your mind, a taunting little laugh. You scrubbed your hands harder over your face before huffing and putting your glasses back on. Guilt bubbled in your mind before you snapped and rasped out. "I get these thoughts, these _really_ _bad_ thoughts." You spoke and pushed yourself deeper into the couch cushions like a sulking teen. Tears had fallen from your face, choking you up as you let out a deep breath. You felt defeated and tired, "And sometimes I- uh... I do things, like hurt myself because of them." You pulled at the sleeves of your long sleeve anxiously. That's all you ever wore. Long sleeves and jeans, usually dark or muted colors. They helped you blend in, go unnoticed.

Dr. Hamilton watches you a little longer. "Y/n," he takes a slow deep breath. "Do you...do you still harm yourself?"

You nod slowly, you couldn't meet his parental gaze. That look of disappointment. "May I take a look?" he asks, but he's already moving around the coffee table and reaching out to grab your arm. Dr. Hamilton was a large man, an Asgardian. The mass of his hand wrapped around your average-sized forearm like you were the size of a child was shocking. His hand was warm as he took your arm from your lap and turned it over.

You resisted, pulled your arm back, but it was pointless. Dr. Hamilton had pulled up your sleeve revealing the lines on your forearm. They spread from the space between the base of your palm to the dip on your elbow. The cuts were deep and still an angry red as they continued to heal. Some lines were a dark purplish-brown, others just a fading brown in scaring on your warm even-brown skin. "Stop-" you gasp and try to pull away, much more forceful. "Don't look," you reached out and pushed his face away.

Dr. Hamilton let go to fan away from your hand. He reached out again, his hold no longer gentle and firm but tight. He looked down at your attacked arm. The pad of his thumb rubbing against the irritated skin. You hissed dangerously. "This isn't good Y/n," he told you sternly, looking up to meet your fearful eyes. "This isn't good at all, I have to report this-"

" _Please no!_ " You yell and kick him back by his knee. Dr. Hamilton groans and falls back on to his ass. A loud thud reverberated in your ears and within the office loudly. You're furiously pulling down your sleeve and wrenching your bag from the ground. You held it tightly to your chest as you stare at him in fear. More tears had swelled in your eyes rapidly, your cheeks were tinged pink and wet as you stare at him. "I don't _like_ hospitals, I can stop. _I know I can_. Just don't send me to another hospital." 

Memories of the facilities on Earth flash rapidly behind your eyes. The nurses in white, the pills, the _sedatives_. You shivered and looked away from the doctor. You were trembling in your seat. "I didn't mean to upset you Y/n," Dr. Hamilton spoke slowly. He rose to his feet and moved around his office. You watched him vigilantly when he stood up. He had been by his desk, a glass pitcher of water present. He poured you a glass and walked back over, keeping his distance as he handed you the glass. "Those cuts just look so serious and if you'll do this, who is to say you won't kill yourself-"

"I won't!" You yell at him again. The glass was set near you on the coffee table. You stare at it, not trusting it. The pitcher of water was already on his desk when you came in for today's session. _What if he put a sedative in it?_ Dr. Hamilton didn't want to end today's session on such a distributing note but time was up. "I uh, I wish you luck on your job interview. Be sure to let them know of your mental health and that you're required to see a therapist regularly until further notice." He told you.

You nod in silence. Your exit was hasty and violent. You pulled your bag on your shoulder and high tailed it out of his office.


	2. The Interview

**_ Miss Darcy Lewis was a quirky person. She talked a lot too, and her facial expression told her off with no sense of hiding. _ ** She was an overly trusting person and that observation put you on edge. Darcy reminded you of the people you hung around in school. She reminded you of Natalie. Both very bubbly and bright. Your interview had gone smoothly.  Despite your emotional unrest you put on a brave mask and faked it until you believed you were okay. She had asked you about life on Earth, she was a Midgardian as well. The conversation was fluid, mostly on her end. You only answered when it was necessary, and never spoke too much. You were mostly silent.

"So," She plops forward on her desk and grins at you. "On your resume, under the information about you, there is a doctor and number. What's that all about?" You wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at her. It was clear to you that she hadn't read the entire note. "It's my therapist. Doctor Hamilton. I am required to see him regularly." 

Darcy nods her head and looks down at your resume. She had read it four times already. It wasn't too short, and it was well put together. Your resume was impressive. "You know, I'm gotta be honest with you Y/n I can call you Y/n right? Your full name is a little long." You nod at her and play with the frayed ends of your long sleeve. Darcy had watched your little antics, the way you pulled at your sleeves, played with the hem of your shirt. Your right leg bounced rapidly.

Darcy assumed you were nervous. "I'm gonna give you the job. I like you, you aren't that talkative which is good cause Thor isn't that chatty either, now that he's king and all," Darcy had gone on, but your attention was drawn to hearing a door close and then open and heavy footsteps followed behind hurried ones. "Speaking of, I think that's-"

"Darcy we're are you with filling the position of chambermaid-"

"Thor can you please just stop and listen to me for a minute! _Jesus-fuck!_ " A snappy voice called to him.

You had tensed up in the chair, too nervous to turn around. Darcy had smirked at Thor and pointed to you with smug satisfaction. You could feel a pair of eyes on you, they burned with intensity. You shiver, pull at your sleeves harder, and roll out your right ankle. "I'm in the middle of going over her job, Hi Jane," Darcy waved. She was comfortable in her chair, slouched with her arms bent over the arms of her chair.

"Oh," came the deep voice. It had to be Thor, the current King of Asgard. He cleared his throat. "Very well then, you," he pointed and you could hear his steps draw near but there was hesitation in them.

"We need to talk," came the other voice, a woman's voice. You assumed her to be Jane. She sounds angry and urgent. "We can talk later, I must speak with my new-" Darcy waved him off and looked at you. She could see that you were totally out of your element. You were uncomfortable, and if the mist in your eyes were any indication, she assumed you were afraid. And she was partially correct. It was something about sudden change that got to you. Your session with Dr. Hamilton earlier today didn't help either. "You'll see her tomorrow, go-go, you're scaring her."

Thor's footsteps receded and so did the woman's. When the door closed again Darcy rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Sorry about them, relationship drama. Anyway, I can expect you to come in tomorrow after nine is fine-"

"I have a session every day at ten on the dot with Dr. Hamilton. I can't miss them." You told her mechanically. Darcy nods her head and looks at your resume. "Okay," she nods and leans forward. "Your sessions are two hours long? Wow, okay that's fine I can work with that." She looks up and smiles at you. "Is there a specific time you want me to come in?" You were looking forward to having an exact period, you didn't want it to be so freeing. You needed some kind of structure for your job.

Darcy thought for a minute and then stuck out her tongue before chuckling. "Is one good for you? It gives you a free hour." You nod at her and begin to stand. Your legs trembled slightly, your nerves still shot from earlier today. "Oh! Before I forget, this job requires you to live on the premises of the palace. I can arrange for the place you're staying in to be up for sale-"

"No, I own my home." You tell her pointedly. "I can pack for a few days and," you thought out loud as your voice died in your throat. You could see through the glass beside the door the king and the woman named Jane, they distracted you.

He towered over her as they argued. He looked vicious. His face pulled in a darkening expression. The woman matched his anger equally. She waved her arms around and pushed at his chest. "Don't worry about them," Darcy had come around the desk and stood beside you. You both were the same height relatively, she may have a few centimeters over you. "They've been like this for a while now, lucky for you though," She turns to you and nudges her arm. "You won't have to deal with that."

"He called me a chambermaid or said the position is one. I-" Darcy nods her head and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, Thor is uh... a little old fashion with his vocabulary. You're, basically, going to be his maid. Clean, do laundry- Do you know how to cook?" She asks randomly. You nod curtly. Living alone, you had no other choice but to cook. You didn't order out because Asgardian food was a bit much on your stomach. Cooking for yourself was easier, you could weigh your proportions perfectly. "Oh even better- I swear the more you let me know the more I like you." She smirks widely at you. 

Your cheeks warm as you look at her and nod again. This time, your arms are around your body. You were tempted to look back over to the arguing couple but you thought against it. "Can you prepare an Asgardian feast? Thor is a heavy eater." She chuckles. "I think I can manage, I'm a fast learner."

"Yeah, according to your resume. You had to have been homeschooled for a while. A high school diploma and two degrees? You're so young." You only nod again. 

Darcy wasn't a fool, she could see you were ready to leave and so she nodded her head and pulled you into an unsuspecting hug. It was tight and she was warm. The sudden touch of her made you shake. You were pulling away from her as quickly as she pulled you into a hug. Your brown eyes wide behind your glasses, shoulders shaking violently. Darcy apologizes. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"I accept your apology." You tell her flatly, trying to play off the tremor in your voice. You step away from her and head to the door. You wave shyly and exit the small office.

The couple stopped arguing immediately. Both Jane and Thor turned their attention to you, eyes heated and angry. "I'm sorry," you whisper weakly and try to escape, opting to walk behind Thor and out of the building.  He stood in your way and glared down at Jane. she glares up at him and walks by you, her shoulder bumping into yours. Was it on purpose? You wouldn't know as she entered Darcy's office with a slam of her office door.

Now you stood in the hallway, eyes looking past the large mass of the man in front of you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body. You could feel the burn on his softening gaze. "I apologize for having walking in on that." He started.

The King's voice was deep and it reverberated over the walls. You looked up at him and stilled. His eyes were so blue and so trained on you with concern. It was intense, and it made your stomach tighten and drop. The King looked so sweet and jovial.  He took a friendly step forward, grabbing your hand in his and placing a kiss on your knuckles. His lips were soft and warm as they touched the back of your hand. You pulled away from him quickly and take two steps back.  You looked up at him, catching the way his eyebrows twitched with confusion. His features even out in kindness. "I do not mean to offend you, little one," The pet name shocked you. He chuckles and takes a step forward, you take two more back. Thor's fingers twitched. 

He wanted to reach out and grab you, make you stand a little closer to him than where you were. Thor had been that kind of person, hands-on, and very close and friendly. When he had grabbed your hand and kissed you knuckles Thor felt suddenly at ease. Your skin was soft and supple like the finest of silks... well softer than silk. You were warm, you were something he was new to.

Selfishly, Thor wanted to feel it again. But your discomfort and nerves were obvious so he stopped trying to get closer, for now. He would see you tomorrow, and get to know you then. You nod at him, your bottom lip sucked into your mouth, teeth biting down so hard you drew blood.  _ Run _ . Your mind chanted. Thor cleared his throat again, bringing your wondering brown eyes back up to him. "I guess you'll be off-" You had quickly walked by him.

You grabbed your car keys from your back pocket, forced open the push door, and walked the short distance to your left of the building. Things in the Palace-city were quite.

Inside your car, you locked the doors quickly. You could see him at the door of the small office building, no doubt he owned it. He watched your frantic movements and soon your car is pulling off in the opposite direction of the center of the city.

* * *

**_ Your head was lulled to the side, chin rested snugly on your shoulder. After such a long day, you deserved to have a bath. _ ** So you lay languidly in the tub, soap suds covering the surface layer of water. There were enscents lit, giving the top of the bathroom a smoky effect. You had planned to fix yourself a great meal before you got in the tub but your body called to simmer in a nice soak. Your mind wandered off to your meeting with the King. He was...very hands-on, in a-way. The King was tall, strong, and touchy. Your skin shivers and erupts in goosebumps. His hold on your hand was strong and inviting and his skin felt like he was on fire. Much like when Dr. Hamilton grabbed your arm today. 

You shift in the tub and let out a sigh. You would have to pack for the next three days. When you got home you checked your email. Darcy had sent you a list of instructions, a schedule with specific times to complete each task, as well as an address. It was surprising that the King didn't live in the castle, but rather a manor close by the castle--it was a few miles away, a three-hour walk, an hour and a half drive. You had looked it up on the Asgardian server, the King's manor. It was large but manageable. You would be able to do your job and keep a fair amount of distance away from him. 

When you were done with your bath, you showered off the bathwater. You took your time cleaning your skin, watching tediously as the luffa scrubbed away the day and left behind clean and healthy skin. When you washed over your healing cuts you wince. The pain wasn't unbearable but it did shock you. 

You stare down at the skin. It was sudden when you pressed the nail of your thumb into the angry line. You pressed hard and watched as the nail easily broke the fragile skin and you bled. The blood trickling down your arm was thick and fluid. It stained the tiled floor pink as it mixed with the water. Suddenly you were filled with regret. You had a session with Dr. Hamilton tomorrow and you were sure he was going to ask to see about your arm. 

* * *

**_ You were at the stove attending to your meal, watching, and following along with the chef as he walked you through the preparation. You liked learning new things. _ ** You took very well to learning new things. It was always when you were in the midst of learning something that you didn't pay attention to your surroundings, wanting to learn everything and more as you over analyzed.

The knock on your glass door and the doorbell made you freeze. You pause the video about Cordon Bleu. You wipe your hands on the hand towel to your right and set down the knife. 

You pull at the sleeves of your nightshirt and wiggle your toes in your socks and slippers as you walked downstairs. Darcy and her companion, the woman named Jane, stood on your doorstep. Your lips quiver in the corners of your mouth as Darcy stands on the other side of the door, waving her hand wildly with a huge smile on her face, Jane stood angrily typing on her phone. As you stood on the other side of the glass, your right arm reached up and punched in your alarm pin. You push your glasses up your face, pushing back your wet hair and, pull back the large glass door. "I wasn't expecting visitors," you tell them honestly.

"I know but I had forgotten to tell you that you're going to be needed early in the morning-"

"You could've emailed her, I'm sorry about Darcy." Jane gives you a forgiving smile and holds out her hand. "I'm Jane, I want to say sorry for bumping you earlier." 

You stare at her outstretched hand apprehensively. The air between the three of you tense. "I accept your apology." You told her mechanically and look up at her. She forces a smile and Darcy makes a brighter face. "Don't take it personally Jane, Y/n doesn't like touch." You nod in agreement with what Darcy had said.

"It's pretty late-" you were cut off with the clap of thunder and lightning. Jane rolled her eyes and Darcy jumped and looked to her feet with a knowing smile. You had stood unflinching. The rain came down quickly, the road taking up the water and creating a stream down the hill. You sigh internally, you would be having your sudden visitors for dinner. You step out of the way, letting them in as the rain started to get them. You clear your throat. "I'm not opposed to having you both for dinner." 

They give you grateful looks. "If you will, shoes here," You pointed to the shoe cubby that only housed a pair of your sneakers, and rainboots. Just those two, your other shoes were upstairs. "You can place your jackets on the chairs, the closet is full." It was a lie. Your closet housed a baseball bat and two boxes. One for the memory of your sister and father, the other for your mother and grandmother. 

Darcy and Jane followed you upstairs to the kitchen and living room. "Your house is _a-may-zing!_ " Darcy squealed excitedly. Jane hums and looks around. You were already in the kitchen, moving around and reaching for the wine cabinet. You pulled out a bottle of red and some glasses. "I'm preparing Cordon Bleu, I can make something else if you'd like." You grab their attention.

Darcy and Jane take seats at the kitchen island. You gestured to the wine and glasses and they nod. You hand them their glasses and they thank you. "Cordon bleu, what is that? Like steak?"

"No," You tell Darcy and place your glasses back on your face. You turn back to the countertop and continue the video. "It's French cuisine, I'm substituting the pork for chicken, and adding a flambe of vegetables."

Jane hums and you turn your head as you continued to prepare and cook. "You're like a chef, did you go to school for it?" She asks. You shake your head. "She has a degree in Studio Arts and English Literature, she's quite the secluded muse." Darcy jokes. It was strange that she spoke so kindly of you as if you were the closest of friends. You don't continue to speak as they talked about their lives.

You learned that Jane was thinking to return to Earth for a few months to continue her work. Her relation issues with the King had been getting to her. Darcy had enthused about her job here on Asgard, being a King's assistant. You had moved around the kitchen easily. Dinner was finished in no time.  You ate in silence as they hummed and praised over the meal. "This is really good." Jane reached over and touched your hand. You pull it away and nearly spill your wine. She mumbles a quick sorry and weakly smiles. "So Y/n, are you excited about the job tomorrow?" Darcy asks.

You only shrug and continue your meal. It was a smaller portion than you intended but it would fulfill you. You made sure your guests were well fed, putting them before you. "I don't understand why you took the job though, you look very well off." Jane murmurs around the rim of her wine glass.

"It doesn't hurt to have money." You murmur and look at them. They smile at you, Jane asked if it was just you here on Asgard to which you told her yes. Darcy asked if you missed Earth and you shrugged. "There isn't anything for me there anymore."

Dinner continued on with peacefully. You could say you enjoyed their company. The rain had started to let up and that's when they took their leave. You waved them off as they walked down the walkway and to the driveway in awe and in gossip. You could hear them talk about how you were basically rich--you were not, and that your house was so beautiful.

When they were gone and down the road, you closed and locked the door. The alarm was turned on and the lights were turned out. Upstairs you cleaned and put away your leftovers. They could serve as a meal for lunch tomorrow. You turned off the lights and made your way back upstairs.

In the bathroom, you recleaned your wound and wrapped it tight so it wouldn't bleed through when you slept and got on your sheets. The wound had bled at dinner, luckily the girls hadn't noticed. But you had. 

You climb into bed and lay there, watching the trees and the rain wash down on the windows. You thought to when the rain first started, how sudden and violent it was. You remembered the way Jane rolled her eyes and how Darcy smirked down at her boot-clad feet. 

The thunder clapped twice, and twice as much more lightning sprouted over the sky. The rain came down harder. In a way, it was lulling. So, you lay relaxed and pull a pillow close. The thunder clapped again, and instantly, you were out like a light.


End file.
